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diff --git a/old/60686-h/60686-h.htm b/old/60686-h/60686-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 05ec1e3..0000000 --- a/old/60686-h/60686-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2261 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Archibald Marshall, a realistic novelist, by William Lyon Phelps. - </title> - - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3{ - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - line-height: 2; -} - -h1 {margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - -h2 {margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 1em;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - - - -p { - margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - .p2 {margin-top: 2em;} - .p4 {margin-top: 4em;} - .p6 {margin-top: 6em;} -.break-before { - page-break-before: always; -} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; - /* not bold */ - font-weight: normal; - /* not italic */ - font-style: normal; - /* not small cap */ - font-variant: normal; -} /* page numbers */ - - - -.center {text-align: center;} -.right {text-align: right; padding-right: 4em;} -.medium {font-size: medium;} -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} -.i2 {margin-left: 2em; padding-right: 2em;} - - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - clear: both; -} - -.figcenter4em {margin: auto; - text-align: center; - margin-top: 4em; margin-bottom: 6em;} - -.caption p -{ - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0; - margin: 0.25em 0; -} - - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; -} - - .tdl {text-align: left; padding-right: 2em;} - - -hr.tb {width: 15%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} -hr.chap {width: 25%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} - - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.box {margin: auto; - margin-top: 2em; - border: 1px solid; - padding: 1em; - background-color: #F0FFFF; - width: 25em;} - -@media handheld -{ - body - { - margin: 0; - padding: 0; - width: 90%; - } - - .box { - width: 75%;} - - hr.tb - { - width: 10%; - margin-left: 47.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - } - - hr.chap - { - width: 20%; - margin-left: 42.5%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - } - - -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Archibald Marshall, a Realistic Novelist, by -William Lyon Phelps - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Archibald Marshall, a Realistic Novelist - -Author: William Lyon Phelps - -Release Date: November 14, 2019 [EBook #60686] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARCHIBALD MARSHALL *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, the University of Toronto and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="box">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> -<br /> - - -Blank pages have been eliminated.<br /> -<br /> -Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the -original.<br /> -<br /> -A few typographical errors have been corrected.<br /> -<br /> -The cover page was created by the transcriber and can be considered public domain.</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> - - - - -<div class="figcenter4em" id="illo1"><img src="images/illo1.jpg" width="350" -height="511" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -ARCHIBALD MARSHALL -</div></div></div><hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1> ARCHIBALD MARSHALL<br /> -<span class="medium"><i>A Realistic Novelist</i></span></h1> - -<p class="center">BY<br /> -WILLIAM LYON PHELPS<br /> -Lampson Professor of English Literature at Yale</p> - -<p class="center p4">WITH FRONTISPIECE</p> - -<div class="figcenter4em" id="illo2"><img src="images/illo2.jpg" width="100" -height="92" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p class="center">NEW YORK<br /> -DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY<br /> -1919</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center p6"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br /> -DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></p></div><hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center p6">TO<br /> -THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH<br /> -OF<br /> -THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO</p> - -<p class="center p4">NOTABLE FOR SCHOLARS AND TEACHERS AND -TWO CREATIVE ARTISTS</p> - -<p class="center p2">THE NOVELIST ROBERT HERRICK</p> -<p class="center">THE POET WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - - -<p>The original form of this book was a lecture -on the William Vaughn Moody foundation at -the University of Chicago, delivered on the -sixth of February, 1918. A portion of it was -subsequently printed in the <i>North American -Review</i>. It now appears considerably revised -and enlarged.</p> - -<p class="right">W. L. P.</p> - -<p class="i2"><i>Yale University,<br /> -Tuesday, 21 May, 1918.</i></p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>ARCHIBALD MARSHALL</h2></div> - - -<p>On a mellow day in the early autumn of -the year 1900, I sat on an old wooden -bench in the open air with an English -gentleman, and listened to his conversation -with a mixture of curiosity and reverence. -The place was one of the fairest counties of -England, the town on the other side of a screen -of trees was Dorchester, and my seat-mate was -Thomas Hardy. I remember his saying without -any additional emphasis than the weight of -the words, that the basis of every novel should -be a story. In considering this remark, which -came, not from a doctrinaire, but from a master -of long and triumphant experience, I could not -help thinking that what seems axiomatic is -often belied by a majority of instances. Thus, -we church-members would agree that religion -must take the first place in our lives; yet a -disinterested observer, who should begin at the -other end of the proposition and examine our -lives merely to discover what actually did take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -the first place therein, might conceivably miss -the element of religion altogether. In the same -way, while it would theoretically seem that -every novel must be a story, an honest critic -who should examine the total product of prose -fiction for any given year in the twentieth century, -might, in a large number of cases, easily -fail to find any story at all.</p> - -<p>As we look back over the history of the English -novel, it would appear that every permanent -work of fiction has been a great story. -<i>Robinson Crusoe</i>, <i>Clarissa</i>, <i>Tom Jones</i>, <i>Humphry -Clinker</i>, <i>The Bride of Lammermoor</i>, <i>Pride -and Prejudice</i>, <i>Esmond</i>, <i>David Copperfield</i>, <i>The -Mill on the Floss</i>, <i>Richard Feverel</i>, <i>The Return -of the Native</i>, <i>Treasure Island</i>, <i>The Last of -the Mohicans</i>, <i>The Scarlet Letter</i>, <i>Huckleberry -Finn</i>, although they represent various shades -of realism and romanticism, have all been primarily -stories, in which we follow the fortunes -of the chief actors with steady interest. These -books owe their supremacy in fiction—at least, -most of them do—to a combination of narrative, -character, and style; every one of them, if -given in colloquial paraphrase to a group of -men around a camp-fire, would be rewarded -with attention.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<p>Sometimes the very thing that gives a drama -or a novel immediate currency makes it smell -of mortality; by taking advantage of some -hotly-discussed social question, general interest -is awakened; but when the question is obsolete, -what becomes of the work of art? I shall not -venture to make a prediction; but I think it is -at least possible that some of the earlier plays -of Ibsen, like <i>The Pretenders</i>, may outlast some -of the later ones, like <i>Ghosts</i>; the later ones -blaze with the flames of public debate, the -earlier reflect the light of the stars.</p> - -<p>Of all forms of literature, the novel has suffered -most by its desertion of art for propaganda. -It has been debased by its popularity. -It lends itself so easily as a channel for political, -social or religious oratory. Every theorist -uses it as a megaphone. Although novels are -as common as grasshoppers, good stories are -scarce. Now this desertion of art for propaganda -is founded on the fallacy that a work of -pure fiction cannot stand or ought not to stand -by itself, but should lean on politics, social -reform, science, or theology for support. We -do not insist on a thesis in sculpture or music -or painting or poetry. There have been, indeed, -many attempts to turn Pegasus into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -cart-horse; and unfortunately the attempt is -almost invariably successful.</p> - -<p>I prefer novels that express the opinions of -the characters in the story to those that express -the opinions of the author. I do not mean that -all novels ought to be impersonal; such a result, -even when most ardently desired by the novelist, -is impossible of achievement. The work of -every true artist reflects his personality, and is, -in a sense, subjective. Even the coldest novels -betray their makers' sympathies, and the standpoint -from which they regard the world. But -there is a difference between having ideas and -arguing a case. Women who have ideas are -always more interesting than those who have -only opinions.</p> - -<p>Why is it that so many novelists write their -best books early in their careers? Is it not -sometimes because the original impelling artistic -impulse becomes dulled in contact with -society, and thoughts take the place of thought? -The thorns of this world spring up and choke -them. It is by no accident that <i>The Mill -on the Floss</i> is a greater novel than <i>Daniel -Deronda</i>.</p> - -<p>The most enduring novels come from the -silent depths in a writer's soul, not from the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -turbulent shallows. To live deeply is easier -in a country where deep living has been done -for centuries than in a country whose human -history is brief. If we should really feel -chagrined by America's native contribution to -literature in comparison with that of Europe, -we might justifiably console ourselves by comparing -America with Australia. Surely one -reason why the British today write novels -rather better than the Americans, is because -their roots go down deeper into the rich soil -of the past. Men of genius are scarce in any -locality, and I am not at this moment thinking -of them; but I am constantly surprised at the -large number of contemporary novels produced -in Great Britain whose literary style bears the -unmistakable stamp of distinction. There are -leaders, whose names are known everywhere; -there are men and women who might conceivably -be leaders if they lived out of Europe. -The best reason why many admirable -twentieth century works of prose fiction in -England fail to attract general attention is -because the level of excellence is so high.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>II</h2></div> - - -<p>H. G. Wells is not the hero of this -book. I am holding my roses for a -figure that has not yet appeared upon -my little stage. But the career of Mr. Wells, -whose novels have almost every quality except -charm, is interesting to contemplate. That he -is a born novelist was clear to me so early as -the year 1895, when one of his best stories -appeared—<i>The Wheels of Chance</i>. Not long -after came the novels of science and socialism -that carried his name around the world; he -was discussed in the salons of Paris and in -the prisons of Siberia. His books were all -busy, noisy, talkative, restless; they reflected -in their almost truculent mental aggressiveness -the mass of undigested and indigestible quasi-scientific -fodder that perhaps disturbs more -than it nourishes the twentieth century stomach; -they made many readers fondly believe -they were living the intellectual life. I mistakenly -supposed he would keep up this squirrel-cage -activity to the end of his days; for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -mistakenly supposed in all this clatter he was -incapable of hearing the voice of the spirit. I -used to think that if all the world suddenly became -religious except one man, that man would -be H. G. Wells.</p> - -<p>The war, which diverted the energies of so -many quiet thinkers to matters of immediate -and practical efficiency, produced a rather different -effect upon this interesting man. He -began to regard things that are temporal in -relation to those of eternal import. He became -converted—I have no hesitation in using the -good old word—and while I can see no evidence -of conviction of sin, for humility is not his most -salient characteristic, he did come to believe -and believes now, that religion ought to be the -motive power of man. What direction his -ideas may take in the future I cannot divine; -but I am thankful for his conversion, if only -for the reason that it inspired him to produce -a masterpiece, <i>Mr. Britling Sees It Through</i>. -This novel is not only far and away his best -book, it is the ablest work of fiction about the -war that I have read. But it owes its eminence -not to its accurate reporting of the course of -social history during the war, for after all, the -much admired hockey-game is not much higher<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -than major journalism, but rather to the profound -sense of spiritual values which is the -core of the book.</p> - -<p>I regard it as unfortunate that Mr. Wells -felt it necessary to follow up the triumph of -this tale with a treatise on theology called <i>God -the Invisible King</i>, and with a propagandist -novel, called <i>The Soul of a Bishop</i>. For the -last-named book illustrates all the faults of its -species, as well as the cardinal sin against art. -<i>Mr. Britling Sees It Through</i> is religious; <i>The -Soul of a Bishop</i> is sectarian. And <i>God the -Invisible King</i>, while it should be read with -sympathy for its author's sincerity and newly-found -idealism, has all the arrogance and cock-sureness -of an old-fashioned theologian without -the preliminary years of devoted learning -that gave the old-fashioned one some right to -a hearing, provided of course he could induce -any one to listen to him. No orthodox evangelist -has ever been more sure of God than Mr. -Wells. The novel was properly named <i>Mr. -Britling Sees It Through</i>; and we might with -equal propriety name the treatise, <i>Mr. Britling -Sees Through It</i>.</p> - -<p>Strange and unfortunate that Mr. Wells -should think that the religious element in Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -Britling needed additional emphasis. A work -of art founded on eternal verities will accomplish -more for the cause of religion than any -tract. Solely from the moral point of view, -<i>Anna Karenina</i> is a more impressive book than -most of its author's subsequent exhortations.</p> - -<p><i>The Soul of a Bishop</i> is not a realistic novel, -for there is no real character in it. It is -already on its way to limbo, along with <i>Robert -Elsmere</i> and <i>The Inside of the Cup</i>. But it is -an excellent illustration of the fate that awaits -an artist when he sacrifices the truth of art for -the enforcement of personal opinion. There -was a time when the excitement over the question -of trades-unions produced by <i>Put Yourself -in His Place</i> was at fever heat; but that novel -today is almost forgotten, while <i>The Cloister -and the Hearth</i> will be read by generation after -generation, simply because it is a great story.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>III</h2></div> - - -<p>In order to illustrate what I mean by a -realistic novelist whose happiest effects are -gained by writing good stories with real -characters, I know of no better choice among -contemporaries than Archibald Marshall. He -is an artist of such dignity and refinement that -only twice in his career has he written a novel -that had for its main purpose something other -than truth to life; in each of these two attempts -the result was a failure.</p> - -<p>I know how difficult it is to "recommend" -novels to hungry readers, for I have written -prescriptions to alleviate many kinds of mental -trouble, yes, and physical ailments too; but how -can I be sure that the remedy will in every -"case" be effective? I know that <i>Treasure -Island</i> cured me of an attack of tonsillitis and -that <i>Queed</i> cured me of acute indigestion; a -United States naval officer informed me that -he recovered from jaundice simply by reading -<i>Pride and Prejudice</i>. These are facts; but -what assurance have I that other sufferers can -try these prescriptions with reasonable hope?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -Yet I have no hesitancy in recommending -Archibald Marshall to any group of men or -women or to any individual of mature growth. -One scholar of sixty years of age told me that -these novels had given him a quite new zest -in life; and I myself, who came upon them on -one of the luckiest days of my existence, confidently -affirm the same judgment. Of the -numerous persons that I have induced to read -these books, I have met with only one sceptic; -this was a shrewd, sharp-minded woman of -eighty, who declared with a hearty laugh that -she found them insupportably tame. I understand -this hostility, for when girls reach the -age of eighty, they demand excitement.</p> - -<p>Those who are familiar with Mr. Marshall's -work and life will easily discover therein echoes -of his own experience. He is an Englishman -by birth and descent, familiar with both town -and country. He was born on the sixth of September, -1866, and received in his home life and -preliminary training plenty of material which -appeared later in the novels. His father came -from the city, like the father in <i>Abington -Abbey</i>; he himself was graduated from Trinity -College, Cambridge, like the son of <i>Peter -Binney</i>; it was intended but not destined that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -he should follow his father's business career, -and he worked in a city office like the son of -Armitage Brown; he went to Australia like the -hero's sister in <i>Many Junes</i>; he made three -visits to America, but fortunately has not yet -written an American novel; he studied theology -with the intention of becoming a clergyman in -the Church of England, like so many young -men in his stories; in despair at finding a -publisher for his work, he became a publisher -himself, and issued his second novel, <i>The House -of Merrilees</i>, which had as much success as it -deserved; he tried journalism before and during -the war; he lived in two small Sussex -towns with literary associations, Winchelsea -and Rye, in the latter from 1908 to 1913; then -until 1917 his home was in Switzerland; he -has now gone back to the scene of his university -days, Cambridge.</p> - -<p>In 1902 he was married and lived for some -time in Beaulieu (pronounced Bewly) in the -New Forest, faithfully portrayed in <i>Exton -Manor</i>. He spent three happy years there -planning and making a garden, like the young -man in <i>The Old Order Changeth</i>. Although -his novels are filled with hunting and shooting, -he is not much of a sportsman himself, being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -content only to observe. He loves the atmosphere -of sport rather than sport. His favourite -recreations are walking, reading, painting, -and piano-playing, and the outdoor flavour -of his books may in part be accounted for by -the fact that much of his writing is done in the -open air.</p> - -<p>Like many another successful man of letters, -his first step was a false start; for in 1899 he -produced a novel called <i>Peter Binney, Undergraduate</i>, -which has never been republished in -America, and perhaps never will be. This is a -topsy-turvy book, where an ignorant father -insists on entering Cambridge with his son; -and after many weary months of coaching, succeeds -in getting his name on the books. The -son is a steady-headed, unassuming boy, immensely -popular with his mates; the father, -determined to recapture his lost youth, disgraces -his son and the college by riotous living, -and is finally expelled. The only good things in -the book are the excellent pictures of May Week -and some snap-shots at college customs; but the -object of the author is so evident and he has -twisted reality so harshly in order to accomplish -it, that we have merely a work of distortion.</p> - -<p>For six years our novelist remained silent;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -and he never returned to the method of reversed -dynamics until the year 1915, when he -published <i>Upsidonia</i>, another failure. Once -again his purpose is all too clear; possibly irritated -by the exaltation of slum stories and -the depreciation of the characters of the well-to-do -often insisted upon in such works, he -wrote a satire in the manner of <i>Erewhon</i>, and -called it a novel. Here poverty and dirt are -regarded as the highest virtues, and the possession -of wealth looked upon as the sure and -swift road to social ostracism. There is not a -gleam of the author's true skill in this book, -mainly because he is so bent on arguing his -case that exaggeration triumphs rather too -grossly over verisimilitude. He is, of course, -trying to write nonsense; a mark that some -authors have hit with deliberate aim, while -perhaps more have attained the same result -with less conscious intention. Now Mr. -Marshall cannot write nonsense even when -he tries; and failure in such an effort is -particularly depressing. He is at his best -when his art is restrained and delicate; in -<i>Upsidonia</i> he drops the engraving-tool and -wields a meat-axe. Let us do with <i>Peter -Binney</i> and with <i>Upsidonia</i> what every other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -reader has done; let us try to forget them, -remembering only that two failures in fifteen -books is not a high proportion.</p> - -<p>Of the remaining thirteen novels, two attained -only a partial success; and the reason -is interesting. These two are <i>The House of -Merrilees</i> and <i>Many Junes</i> (1908). The former -was written in 1901 but publishers would -none of it, and it did not wear a print dress -until 1905. Meanwhile the author was trying -his hand at short stories, for which his method -of work is not particularly fitted, his skill -being in the development of character rather -than in the manufacture of incident. He did, -however, publish a collection of these tales in -one volume, called <i>The Terrors</i>, which appeared -in 1913, their previous separate publication -covering a period of sixteen years. They -are amazingly unequal in value; some are excellent, -and others trivial. This volume is out -of print, and whether any of the contents may -be rescued from oblivion is at present problematical. -It is interesting, however, that he, -at the outset of his career, supposed that invention, -rather than observation, was his trump -card. The realism of <i>The House of Merrilees</i> -is mixed with melodrama and mystery; these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -are, in the work of a dignified artist, dangerous -allies, greater liabilities than assets. In a personal -letter he confesses that this artificial plot -hampered him; but he goes on to say, "the -range of scene and character in that book is -something that I have never been able to catch -since." He has since—with only one relapse—happily -forsaken artificially constructed -mysteries for the deepest mystery of all—the -human heart. In <i>Many Junes</i>, a story -that will be reprinted in America in 1919, -we have pictures of English country life of -surpassing loveliness; we have an episode -as warm and as fleeting as June itself; we -have a faithful analysis of the soul of a strange -and solitary man, damned from his birth by -lack of decision. But the crisis in the tale is -brought about by an accident so improbable -that the reader refuses to believe it. The moment -our author forsakes reality he is lost; it -is as necessary for him to keep the truth as it -was for Samson to keep his hair. Furthermore, -this is the only one of Mr. Marshall's -books that has a tragic close—and his art cannot -flourish in tragedy, any more than a native -of the tropics can live in Lapland. The bleak -air of lost illusion and frustrated hope, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -which the foremost living novelist, appropriately -named, finds his soul's best climate, is -not favourable to Archibald Marshall.</p> - -<p>The "relapse" mentioned in the preceding -paragraph occurred in the year 1912, when he -published a long and wildly exciting novel, -called <i>The Mystery of Redmarsh Farm</i>. This -has all the marks of a "best-seller" and went -through several editions in England, though it -has not yet been reprinted in America. I regard -the writing of this book as the most dangerous -moment in Mr. Marshall's career, for -its immediate commercial success might easily -have tempted him to continue in the same vein, -and if he had, he would have sunk to the level -of a popular entertainer, and lost his position -among British novelists of the past and present. -Curiously enough, it came between two of his -best works in the Clinton series, <i>The Eldest -Son</i> (1911) and <i>The Honour of the Clintons</i> -(1913). Maybe the chilling reception given to -his finest stories drove him to a cheaper style -of composition. Maybe his long second visit -to Australia, where he saw and shared experiences -quite unlike his English environment, -made him try his hand at mystery and crime. -In 1911 he had published <i>Sunny Australia</i>, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -result of a sojourn on that continent, whither -he had gone as special commissioner for the -<i>Daily Mail</i>. There is a good deal of superficial -cleverness in <i>The Mystery of Redmarsh Farm</i>; -its plot is elaborate, with a flavour of <i>Lohengrin</i>; -the beautiful lonely maiden's young -brother is stolen by a villain and rescued by -a young hero who is appropriately named -Knightly; a misunderstanding separates the -girl and her lover, who sails away to Australia. -Unlike Lohengrin, however, he returns, and all -is well. There is a conventional detective, and -a murder trial and a shipwreck and a recognition -scene—I kept looking back to the title page -to see if the author really was Archibald -Marshall. It is as though Joseph Conrad -should write like Marie Corelli. Yet although -some of the characters are unreal and the plot -artificial and the villain theatrical, the environment, -whether in England or in Australia, -is as accurately painted as in Mr. Marshall's -best stories. He will not write of places that -he has not seen. When the gypsies are found, -they are found in the New Forest; and any -one who reads this yarn immediately after -<i>Sunny Australia</i>, will see that these distant -scenes are correctly described.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IV</h2></div> - - -<p>It was in the year 1906, and in the novel -<i>Richard Baldock</i>, that he revealed his -power. This book, which will make its first -American appearance in the autumn of 1918, -contains a story so absorbing that it is only in -the retrospect that one realizes the vitality of -its characters and the delicacy of its art. There -are no heroes and no villains. Every person -has the taint that we all inherited from Adam, -and every person has some reflection of the -grace of God. There is no one who does not say -something foolish or ill-considered; and there -is no one who does not say something wise. -In other words there are no types, like "heavies," -"juveniles," and "ingenues." As is the -case in nearly all the novels by its author, we -are constantly revising our opinions of the -characters; and we revise them, not because the -characters are untrue, but because we learn to -know them better. Human nature is consistent -only in its inconsistency. It is forever fluid -and dynamic; and although no individual has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -ever understood another, and least of all himself, -increasing knowledge helps to make us -certain of our uncertainty. No man will play -the part his friends have written for him. One -reason why Shakespeare was a first-rate and -Jonson a second-rate dramatist is because Jonson -created humours and Shakespeare created -individuals. Among all Shakespeare's personages, -Hamlet is the most interesting to readers -and the most baffling to commentators; because -the latter try to adjust him to a theory of -madness, weak will, or what not. Is not the -fact that he has never been understood by any -one and never will be, the strongest proof of -his reality? Some think he lacked backbone; -others insist he was all backbone; some think he -was mad; others that he only pretended to be -mad; while America's greatest Shakespearean -scholar said he was neither mad nor pretended -to be. A young gentleman of Hamlet's copious -temperament, placed as he was amid natural -and supernatural forces, might easily at times -seem to illustrate any one of the above appraisals. -Indeed I suppose the sanest and most -resolute among us seem at times to lack either -resolution or sanity or both.</p> - -<p>The more complex a character, the less de<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>pendable -he is. And everybody has some -complexity. Even quiet Horatio, beloved of -Hamlet for his steady self-control, tried to -commit suicide.</p> - -<p>Every fine novel and every fine drama must -of course illustrate the law of causation—the -principle of sufficient reason. But characters -that run in grooves are not human. In <i>Richard -Baldock</i>, we have, as we so often have in the -work of Archibald Marshall, strife between -father and son—a kind of civil war. This war, -like many others, is begotten of misunderstanding. -There is not only the inevitable divergence -between the older and the younger generation, -there is the divergence between two -powerful individualities. We at first sympathize -wholly with the son. We say to ourselves -that if any man is foolish enough to sacrifice all -his joy in life to a narrow creed, why, after all, -that is his affair; it is only when he attempts -to impose this cheerless and barren austerity -on others, that we raise the flag of revolt. At -the deathbed of the young mother, one of the -most memorable scenes in our author's books, -we are quite certain that we shall never forgive -the inflexible bigot; this hatred for him is nourished -when he attempts to crush the son as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -did crush his wife. Yet, as the story develops, -and we see more deeply into the hearts of all -the characters, we understand how the chasm -between father and son is finally crossed. It is -crossed by the only durable bridge in the world—the -bridge of love, which beareth all things.</p> - -<p>Tolerance—when based not on indifference, -but on sympathy—is tolerant even of intolerance.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>V</h2></div> - - -<p>In 1907 appeared one of the most characteristic -of Mr. Marshall's novels, <i>Exton -Manor</i>, which he began to write the day -after he finished <i>Richard Baldock</i>. It was -naturally impossible for any well-read reviewer -to miss the likeness to Anthony Trollope. If -I believed in the transmigration of souls, I -should believe that Archibald Marshall was a -reincarnation of Trollope, and William De -Morgan a reincarnation of Dickens. In an -interesting preface written for the American -edition, Mr. Marshall manfully says that he has -not only tried to follow Anthony Trollope, "but -the whole body of English novelists of his date, -who introduced you to a large number of people, -and left you with the feeling that you knew -them all intimately, and would have found yourself -welcome in their society. That particular -note of intimacy seems to be lacking in the fiction -of the present day, and I should like to -have it back."</p> - -<p>This instantly raises the question of Victor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>ianism, -to some a stumbling-block, to some foolishness. -For my part, if I did not believe that -the best Victorian fiction was superior to contemporary -work, I should not be so hearty an -admirer of Archibald Marshall. Indeed the -best Victorian novels surpass our best twentieth -century novels in the one respect where -we chiefly plume ourselves on our claim to -attention—I mean in the matter of sincerity. -We talk about sincerity all the time, but we -protest too much; the essence of sincerity is -present perhaps more often in art, as it is -in life, where its profession is least urgent. -Henry James, in the fragment of autobiography -called <i>The Middle Years</i>, wisely though -oracularly remarked, "Phenomena may be interesting, -thank goodness, without being phenomena -of elegant expression or of any other -form of restless smartness, and when once type -is strong, when once it plays up from deep -sources, every show of its sincerity delivers us -a message and we hang, to real suspense, on -its continuance of energy, on its again and yet -again consistently acquitting itself. So it keeps -in tune, and, as the French adage says, <i>c'est le -ton qui fait la chanson</i>. The mid-Victorian -London was sincere—that was a vast virtue and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -a vast appeal; the contemporary is sceptical, -and most so when most plausible."</p> - -<p>On a summer day in 1914, I had the pleasure -of a ten-mile drive over the hills with one of -the wisest old men in America—Andrew D. -White. I remember his saying that one of -the most fortunate things that could happen -to America would be a general ambition on the -part of the more educated classes to look forward -as to a goal in life to making a permanent -home in the country. He said that in America -men who make a little money move into the city -as soon as possible; whereas in England, whenever -a man makes a competence in the city he -usually establishes a home in the country. No -one can read the novels of Mr. Marshall without -feeling that his books are so to speak based -on this ideal; he repeatedly insists that life in -the country is the true life for thoughtful men -and women, and that the most delectable season -for the solid enjoyment of it is the winter. -Nay, he takes the position—a position also occupied -by one of our ablest American novelists, -Dorothy Canfield—that the most favourable locality -for studying human nature is the small -country village. He says, "Life in such a community -as is depicted in <i>Exton Manor</i> is just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -as typical of English social habits as it was in -Trollope's day. The tendency of those who -have hitherto worked on the land to drift into -the towns is not shared by the more leisured -classes. Their tendency is all the other way—to -forsake the towns for the country—and improved -methods of communication keep them -more in touch with the world than they would -have been fifty years ago. But in spite of this -increased dependency upon the outside world, -English country life is still intensely local in -its personal interests, and quite legitimately so, -for it must be remembered that, if the man who -lives in a fairly populous country village comes -across fewer people than the man who lives -in a town, he knows all about those whom he -does come across, and his acquaintances represent -a far greater variety of type and class -than is met with where types and classes tend -to stratify. You have, in fact, in a typical -country parish, a microcosm of English social -life, and there is, ready to the hand of the realistic -novelist, material from which he can draw -as much interest and variety as he is able to -make use of."</p> - -<p>In another important question which concerns -the art of the novelist, I might applaud<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -Mr. Marshall's dictum more unreservedly if I -did not happen to know of a gigantic witness -against him. In forestalling gossipy identification -of his leading characters in <i>Exton Manor</i>, -he says, "It is not a novelist's business to draw -portraits, but to create living figures, and the -nearer he gets to the first the farther off will -he be from the second." This certainly sounds -well; but unfortunately for its universal application, -practically all of the characters in <i>Anna -Karenina</i> are accurate portraits.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VI</h2></div> - - -<p>To all those who have not yet read a single -work by our author, I would counsel them -to begin with <i>The Squire's Daughter</i>, and -then take up—with particular care to preserve -the correct sequence—<i>The Eldest Son</i>, <i>The -Honour of the Clintons</i>, <i>The Old Order Changeth</i> -[English title, <i>Rank and Riches</i>]. These -four stories deal with the family and family -affairs of the Clintons, and together with a -separate book, <i>The Greatest of These</i> [English -title, <i>Roding Rectory</i>], belong to Mr. Marshall's -best period, the years from 1909 to 1915. -When I say the best period, I mean the most -fruitful up to the present moment in 1918. He -is in the prime of life, and it is to be hoped -that he may yet surpass himself; but since 1915, -perhaps owing to the obsession of the war, he -has not done so. <i>Watermeads</i> (1916) is a -charming story, and in <i>Abington Abbey</i> (1917), -and its sequel, <i>The Graftons</i> (1918), he has introduced -us to another interesting family; but -neither of these books reaches the level main<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>tained -by the Clinton tetralogy, nor penetrates -so deeply into the springs of life and conduct -as his most powerful work, <i>The Greatest of -These</i>.</p> - -<p>Mr. Marshall began <i>The Squire's Daughter</i> -as a long "short story," starting with what is -now Chapter XII, <i>Food and Raiment</i>. He fell -in love with his characters, as many a novelist -has done, and expanded the narrative. Then -he wrote <i>The Eldest Son</i>, which is the best of -the four books. Yet it was not a success in -England, and at present both <i>The Squire's -Daughter</i> and <i>The Eldest Son</i> are out of print -in their home country; they are, however, having -a daily-increasing circulation in America, -which is bound to resurrect them in Great Britain. -For that matter most of Mr. Marshall's -novels are more widely known and certainly -more appreciated in the United States than in -the land of their nativity. In <i>The Honour of -the Clintons</i>, the author's intention was to -"take up the old Squire, see what all his generations -of gentility and honour, and all his -conviction that he is of superior clay, amount -to when he is touched with personal disgrace." -He discovered, as Dickens must have discovered -in writing the <i>Pickwick Papers</i>, that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -hero turned out rather better than he thought -he would. This third book in the series was -written under inspiration, completed in six -weeks, and at the time came almost as near -satisfying the author as it always has satisfied -me. But a friend, with true English candour, -said to him, "All the ingredients of the cake are -there, but the cake hasn't risen." Anyhow, -the Squire rose, whether the cake did or not.</p> - -<p>The final novel in the Clinton family, <i>The Old -Order Changeth</i>, shows the effect produced on -both Rank and Riches by the Great War. Mr. -Marshall began this story with many misgivings, -and it is still not one of his favourites, -chiefly because "there are so many beastly -people in it." But so long as I live it will hold -a secure place in my heart, for this is the first -work of the author's that I saw. Indeed I had -never heard of him until I picked up <i>The Old -Order Changeth</i>. I started to read it with no -conception of the keen delight in store; after -finishing it, I wrote to the publishers, "Who on -earth is Archibald Marshall? There is no one -like him in the world. Send me everything he -has written." Since that moment of exaltation, -I have read and reread the Clinton books, and -each time they seem better.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<p>To read the Clinton stories is to be a welcome -guest in a noble old English country house, to -meet and to associate on terms of happy intimacy -with delightful, well-bred, clear-minded -men and women; to share the outdoor life of -healthful sport, and the pleasant conversation -around the open fire; to sharpen one's observation -of natural scenery in summer and in -winter, and in this way to make a permanent -addition to one's mental resources; to learn the -significance of good manners, tact, modesty, -kindly consideration, purity of heart—not by -wearisome precepts, but by their flower and -fruit in human action. To read these books -is not to dodge life, it is to have it more abundantly.</p> - -<p>If, as Bacon said, a man dies as often as he -loses his friends, then he gains vitality by every -additional friendship. To know the Clinton -family and their acquaintances is not merely to -be let into the inner circle of English country -life, to discover for ourselves exactly what sort -of people English country folk are, to understand -what family tradition and ownership of -the land mean to them—it is to enlarge our own -range of experience and to increase our own -stock of genuine happiness, by adding to our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -mental life true friends—and friends that are -always available. For often the friends of flesh -and blood cannot be reached when we need them -most; perhaps they are asleep, or away on a -journey; but the staunch old friends introduced -to us by novelists never deny themselves. Is -not this a fairly good reason why, among all -the novels we read, some at all events should be -selected for the immanent charm of their characters? -I know how uncritical it is to admire -any work of art that possesses the element of -cheerfulness; but suppose our reading of novels -were entirely confined to the works of Maxim -Gorki?</p> - -<p>Why should we always select acquaintances -in fiction that we always avoid in real life? Is -it the same instinct that makes so many persons -love to go slumming?</p> - -<p>There is perhaps rather too strong a flavour -of tea in these stories, but that no doubt is a -legitimate part of their realism. The sacred -rite of afternoon tea plays fully as big a part -in English fiction as it plays in English life. -Tea—which would be an intolerable interruption -to business or to golf among normal Americans—is -never superfluous to the British. -Among the hundreds of English novels that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -you have read, can you recall a single instance -where any character <i>declined</i> a cup of tea? -And, in terrible crises or trivial vexations, is -not the following exclamation familiar—"I -am dying for my tea!" I sometimes think -that if the house should be destroyed by fire -at three o'clock, half-past four would find the -family taking tea on the lawn. I remember, on -a voyage to Alaska, a vigorous old English -woman who appeared on deck every day between -four and five, and when she saw the circulation -of the china, a look of holy rapture -dawned in her eyes, and from her lips came -an ecstatic cry, "Ah, is there tea going?" -It must be wonderful to love anything on -earth so much as the English love their -tea.</p> - -<p>Two months after writing the above paragraph, -I received testimony which delightfully -supports the view expressed. An Englishman -informs me, that after the big sea-fight of Jutland, -he had the privilege of conversing with an -English blue-jacket who was perched aloft during -the whole of that terrific experience. There -he remained under orders, in the thick of the -battle, with the bolts of death flying all about -him. On being asked how he felt, the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -man exclaimed with a tone of regret, "Well, of -course, I had to miss my tea."</p> - -<p>Not since Fielding's Squire Western has -there been a more vivid English country squire -than Mr. Marshall's Squire Clinton. The difference -between them is the difference between -the eighteenth and the twentieth centuries. He -is the man of the house, the head of the family, -and it is not until we have read all four of the -stories that we can obtain a complete view of -his character. He is a living, breathing man, -and we see the expression on his face, and hear -the tones of his voice, which his daughters imitate -so irresistibly. With all his pride and -prejudice, with all his childish irritableness, he -is the idol of the household. His skull is as -thick as English oak, but he has a heart of -gold. He is stupid, but never contemptible. -And when the war with Germany breaks out -in 1914, he rises to a magnificent climax in the -altercation with Armitage Brown. We hear in -his torrent of angry eloquence not merely the -voice of one man, but the combined voices of all -the generations that have developed him.</p> - -<p>Yet while Mr. Marshall has made an outstanding -and unforgettable figure of the fox-hunting -Squire, it is in the portrayal of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -women of the family that he shows his most -delicate art. This is possibly because his skill -as an artist is reinforced by profound sympathy. -The Squire is so obtuse that it has -never dawned upon his mind that his wife is -a thousand times cleverer than he, or that her -daily repression has in it anything savouring -of tragedy. In the third book, <i>The Honour of -the Clintons</i>, intense and prolonged suffering -begins to sharpen his dull sight; and the scenes -between the old pair are unspeakably tender -and beautiful. Mr. Marshall never preaches, -never tries to adorn the tale by pointing a -moral. But the wild escapade of the daughter -in the first of these stories, and the insistence -of the mother on a superior education for the -twins exhibit more clearly than any letter to -the <i>Times</i> could do, what the author thinks -about the difference between the position -women have held in English country homes -and the position they ought to have.</p> - -<p>Of all his characters, perhaps those that the -reader will remember with the highest flood of -happy recollection are the twins, Joan and -Nancy. In the first novel, this wonderful pair -are aged thirteen; in the second, they are fifteen; -in the third, they are twenty-one. Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -Marshall is particularly skilful in the drawing -of young girls; and after one has read <i>Ann -Veronica</i>, I can think of no better antidote -than these Clinton books. Whatever may be -woman's place in the future, whatever she may -drink or smoke or wear or say or do, there -is one kind of girl that can never become unattractive; -and the Clinton twins illustrate that -kind. They are healthy, modest, quick-witted, -affectionate, high-spirited; when they come in -laughing and glowing from a game of tennis, -and take their places at the family tea-table, -they bring the breath of life into the room.</p> - -<p>In <i>The Eldest Son</i>, which of the four delightful -books dealing with the Clinton family, I -find most delightful, there is a suggestion of -the author's attitude toward humanity in the -procession of candidates for governess that -passes before the penetrating eyes of Mrs. -Clinton. Her love for the old Starling—one of -the most original of Mr. Marshall's creations—has -not blinded Mrs. Clinton to the latter's -incompetence for the task of training so alert a -pair as the twins. Of the women who present -themselves for this difficult position, not one is -wholly desirable; and it is plain that Mrs. Clinton -knows in advance that this will be the case.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -She is not looking for an ideal teacher, for such -curiosities are not to be found on our planet; -the main requisite is brains, and she selects -finally the candidate whom many society women -would immediately dismiss as impossible, the -uncompromising, hard-headed, sexless Miss -Phipps, who has about as much amenity as a -steamroller. Miss Phipps bristles with faults; -but they are the faults that spring from excess -of energy, from a devotion to scholarship so -exclusive that the minor graces and minor -pleasures of life have received in her daily -scheme even less than their due. But the twins -already possess everything lacking in the composition -of their teacher; what they need is -not a sweet, sympathetic companion, what they -need is what nearly every one needs, mental -discipline, mental training, and an increase in -knowledge and ideas. In this dress-parade of -candidates we have a miniature parade of -humanity in the large; no one is faultless; but -those who have an honest mind and an honest -character have something essential. And who -knows but what the shrewd and deep-hearted -Mrs. Clinton did not also see that in the association -of this mirthless expert with two young -incarnations of vitality and vivacity, both par<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>ties -to the contract might learn something of -value? Miss Phipps is about to discover that -the country-side in winter has resources entirely -unguessed at by her bookish soul; that -there are many of her countrymen and country-women -who find in outdoor sport a secret of -health and happiness.</p> - - - -<p class="i2 p2">Her bedroom was in the front of the house, and she -had heard, without much heeding them, the wheels and -the beat of horse-hoofs and the voices outside. Now she -began to be a little curious as to what was going on, and -rose and drew up her blind and looked out.</p> - -<p class="i2">The scene was quite new to her, and in spite of herself -she exclaimed at it. Immediately beyond the wide -gravel sweep in front of the house was the grass of the -park, where the whole brave show of the South Meadshire -Hunt was collected. It is doubtful if she had ever -seen a pack of hounds in her life, and she watched them -as if fascinated. Presently, at some signal which she -had not discerned, the huntsman and the whips turned -and trotted off with them, and behind them streamed all -the horsemen and horsewomen, the carriages and carts, -and the people on foot, until the whole scene which had -been so full of life and colour was entirely empty of all -human occupation, and there was only the damp grass -of the park and the big bare trees under the pearly grey -of the winter sky. She saw the Squire ride off on his -powerful horse, and admired his sturdy erect carriage, -and she saw Dick and Virginia, side by side, Humphrey, -the pink of sartorial hunting perfection, Mrs. Clinton -in her carriage, with Miss Dexter by her side and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -twins opposite to her, and for a moment wished she had -accepted her invitation to make one of the party, -although she did not in the least understand where they -were going to, or what they were going to do when they -got there. All this concourse of apparently well-to-do -and completely leisured people going seriously about a -business so remote from any of the interests in life that -she had known struck her as entirely strange and inexplicable. -She might have been in the midst of some odd -rites in an unexplored land. The very look of the -country in its winter dress was strange to her, for she -was a lifelong Londoner and the country to her only -meant a place where one spent summer holidays.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VII</h2></div> - - -<p>The novel <i>Watermeads</i> (1916), particularly -welcome to me because the friend -who wore a grotesque mask in <i>Upsidonia</i> -showed his healthy, agreeable, English face -again, opens characteristically with the entire -family gathered around the tea-table in a sunlit -room in an old manor house. This story is -mainly concerned with the waxing and waning -of a marriage-engagement; the rich fiancée -seems well enough among her own people and -in her own environment; her lack of breeding -appears with steadily increasing emphasis when -she is brought into the circle of the squire's -household. The restraint shown by Mr. Marshall -in contrasting her with the people among -whom she is expected to live is worthy of the -highest praise. There is nothing exaggerated, -not a trace of burlesque; little touches, shades -of speech and conduct, the expression at the -corners of the girl's mouth when she is displeased -or unsatisfied, all combine to lower the -temperature in her lover's heart. Nor is there -anything snobbish in this increasing coldness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -No matter how important may be a difference -in manners or social breeding, love could make -a happy fusion; it is, however, not in one act -of villainy, but in many trifles light as air that -the young woman is finally, even to the myopic -eyes of passion, revealed as wholly selfish.</p> - -<p>Two accidents—youth and cash—give to this -girl an assurance that finally makes her odious; -but women who have neither can be equally offensive. -Her prospective mother-in-law, the -squire's wife, parades the decline in the family's -finances so obtrusively that she becomes -as tiresome as a flapping curtain. When Lord -Kirby is shown by her through the ancestral -home, he escapes with a sense of enormous relief, -saying to his wife, "That's an awful -woman. You hear about people being purse-proud, -but she seems to be empty-purse-proud, -and I don't know that that isn't worse. If -people are as hard up as that they ought to -hide it."</p> - -<p>In <i>Abington Abbey</i> (1917) and <i>The Graftons</i> -(1918) we have really one book, and the last -page of the sequel makes me hope that the history -of this charming family may be continued—I -don't care through how many volumes. -Mr. Grafton is a gentleman, and the way in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -which he settles the various problems of family -discipline and the affairs of the estate springs -from his unerring good sense. His daughters -adore their widower-father, but each in her own -manner. And though they are all attractive, I -know which one I like the best.</p> - -<p>Mr. Marshall published with <i>The Graftons</i> an -exceedingly interesting Introduction, containing -a defense of his methods which is not -needed by intelligent readers, but which may -enlighten those who do not understand what -he is about. In a personal letter, however, he -expressed himself in words that I like better -than his printed apologia. "The Grafton family -isn't so rich in varied interest as the Clinton -family, but I hope they will make their friends. -I think they are as 'nice' a family as any I've -drawn. I set out simply to show them in their -country home, and make their country neighbours -display themselves in the light of their -critical humour, without much idea of a story. -It turned into something rather different, and -I'm not quite sure about it yet. And it has -taken two books to work it out."</p> - -<p>Now the reason why I like this ink-epistle -better than the formal preface is because in -the latter Mr. Marshall seemed to think it nec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>essary -to reply to those critics who said he -ought to discuss in his novels the economic -questions concerned with the tenure of the -land. If he should by some evil temptation -make economic questions the basis of his stories -of English country life, he would commit the -cardinal sin that has corrupted so much of contemporary -fiction, the sin that I condemned at -the outset of this essay. The most conspicuous -element in his art is Charm. If some one -should persuade him that he ought to become -more "serious," his novels would lose their -atmosphere; and he might find himself writing -like that earnest student of modern movements, -Mrs. Humphry Ward.</p> - -<p>I am aware that the most insulting epithet -that can be applied to a book, or a play, or a -human being is the word "Puritan"; and I -remember reading a review somewhere of -<i>Abington Abbey</i> which commented rather satirically -on the interview between Grafton and -Lassigny, and most satirically of all on the conclusion -of the interview, which left the stiff, -prejudiced, puritanical British parent in possession -of the field. But once more, Mr. Marshall -is not trying to prove a thesis; he is -representing the Englishman and the French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>man -in a hot debate, where neither is right -and neither is wrong, but where each is partly -right and partly wrong. Each says in the heat -of the contest something injudicious, even as -men do when they are angry. But when Lassigny -literally takes French leave, we do not -care who has scored the most points; the real -winner is the one who is not present—the girl -herself. For when two men fight about a -woman, as they do somewhere every day, the -truly important question is not, which man -wins the fight? The only real question is, -does the woman win?</p> - -<p>It will never do to make generalizations from -merely one of Mr. Marshall's novels. If we -had only <i>Abington Abbey</i>, we might imagine -that he detested the clergy, for the clergyman -in this book is surely detestable; but in <i>The -Greatest of These</i> there are two clergymen who -are admirable characters, and a third who is by -no means wholly or even mainly evil. Like an -honest student of life, Mr. Marshall never considers -a man as a representative of a business, -but as a human being. No man is good because -he is a clergyman; but it would be well perhaps -if every member of that highest of all professions -were a clergyman because he was good.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>VIII</h2></div> - - -<p>There is an unconscious double meaning -in the American name given to the novel -published in 1914, <i>The Greatest of These</i>, -for it can be taken not only in the Pauline significance, -but as the greatest of these books we -are considering. It is the most ambitious and -on the whole the most effective of its author's -productions, containing also the essence of -his religion—charity contrasted with opinions. -We have an illustration of his favourite method -of portraying the shade and shine of human -character by placing in opposition two leading -representatives of two large classes of nominal -Christians—a clergyman of the Church of England -and a minister of the Dissenters. Mr. -Marshall never wrote a better first chapter. -The reader is instantly aware that he has in his -hands a masterpiece. Every leading character -is introduced in the opening chapter either in -person or in allusive conversation, and we know -that Mr. Marshall has what most novelists seek -in vain—a real plot. This book, which eventually -rises to the highest spiritual altitude at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>tained -thus far by its author, begins on a note -of sordid sex-tragedy, as unusual in the stories -of Mr. Marshall as a picture like the Price -household is in the work of Jane Austen; here -it serves to bring forward the forthright and -self-satisfied Anglican, who little dreams of -his approaching humiliation; he is brought into -conflict with a kind of Zeal-of-the-land Busy, -whose aggressive self-righteousness is to be -softened by the very man who he hoped would -harden it. Here too, as in <i>Exton Manor</i>, we -come as near as we ever come in Mr. Marshall's -books to meeting a villain—in each case it is a -woman with a serpent's tongue.</p> - -<p>The time-element in <i>The Greatest of These</i> is -managed with consummate skill. So far as -the novel has a hero, it is the Rev. Dr. Merrow. -He does not appear in Roding until the one-hundred-and-sixty-third -page, but there is so -much talk, for and against him, that the reader -awaits his arrival at the railway station with -fully as much eagerness as any of the village -gossips. And then, owing to the Doctor's -fatigue from the journey, the reader is as -baffled as the parishioners. It is quite impossible -to discover what manner of man he is. -The author refuses to help us, preferring to let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -his leading character reveal himself without -any manipulation behind the scenes. This -revelation is gradual, made up of many little -details of speech and behaviour, as it would be -in real life.</p> - -<p>But although the personality of the man is -not clear until more than half of the book has -passed, the ninth chapter, which shows him in -action in London as a public institution, is one -of the most powerful pieces of prose Mr. Marshall -has ever composed. He writes as if inspired -by the theme. Not only is it a magnificent -description of a great occasion, its dramatic -power is immensely heightened because -we see it through the eyes of a young ritualist, -to whom it is as strange—and at first as repellent—as -some vulgar heathen observance. But -gradually distaste changes to interest, and interest -to enthusiasm. Such passages as the -following are entirely unlike the ordinary current -of Mr. Marshall's style, but it is a proof -that he can reach the heights when the occasion -calls.</p> - - -<p class="p2 i2">There came more of these sentences. The spark had -caught; the furnace was beginning to glow. George -gazed at the preacher with his own face alight. His -surroundings were forgotten.... If this was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -kind of preaching that had brought Dr. Merrow his -great reputation, then he understood its appeal, and -was himself moved by it. It came from something beyond -creeds, far beyond differences in methods of worship. -It had been heard in all ages of the Church, -amidst the splendours of mediæval superstition, as in -the crude barrenness of modern revivalism. The spirit -moved on the face of the waters; the stagnancy of mere -words was broken; there was life and healing in them.</p> - -<p class="i2">The words came faster. The voice grew stronger, and -took on a different tone, as if on an organ a touch of -reed had been added to diapason. The slightly bent -figure became straighter, the worn face younger. The -preacher began to use his hands—thin, flexible, nervous -hands, which seemed to clutch at deep truths, and -fling them out for the world to take hold of. Soon the -burning words came in a torrent, as of a rushing mass -of water of irresistible force, yet bound within its directing -channel. Every now and then they sank to a -deep calm, but were still infused with the same concentrative -power. Such words had stirred men's minds -and souls in long past ages. Spoken on bare hillsides -underneath the symbol of faith, they had converted -kingdoms. Flung forth over throngs of rough fighting -men, they had turned bloodshed and rapine into -righteous crusades. Their power was older than that -of Christianity itself. In the dim ages of religious -history it had singled out Aaron for the priesthood, and -put him above Moses, the warrior leader. Later, it had -burst the bonds of the priesthood itself, and winged the -utterances of great prophets.</p> - -<p class="p2">Every page that we turn in this extraordinary -book lessens the distance not only in time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -but in sympathy between the Rector and -the Pastor. The orthodox evangelical chapel -orator is drawn with just the insight one -would superficially <i>not</i> expect from a man of -Mr. Marshall's birth, breeding, and environment. -He is certainly the author's finest -achievement, even finer than Squire Clinton, -for he is more difficult to draw. The Rev. Dr. -Merrow must be added to Chaucer's Poore Persoun -and to Goldsmith's Village Preacher as -one more permanent clerical figure in imaginative -literature.</p> - -<p>Lesser personages in this story are given -with the same care in detail, until we feel their -presence as personal friends. The curate, the -Rev. George Barton, so completely misunderstood -by Mrs. Merrow, is an almost flawless portrait. -His healthy, athletic outdoor nature and -the development of his inner life are both presented -with subtle, delicate strokes of the pen -possible only to an artist of distinction.</p> - -<p>It is interesting to contemplate side by side -in the reader's mind the wife of the Rector and -the wife of the Pastor. Both are good women—their -only similarity. Lady Ruth, a born -aristocrat, with a "temperamental inability to -comport herself as the busy wife of a busy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -clergyman" is one of the most gracious and -lovely figures created by our novelist, which -means that her charm is irresistible. The less -admirable, but more energetic wife of Dr. Merrow -is so perfect a representative of the busy -city pastor's helpmate that we can only wonder -how it is possible to put on paper any creation -so real. There is not a false touch in this picture. -William Allingham wrote in his diary -after reading one of Browning's poems, -"Bravo, Browning!" Upon finishing <i>The -Greatest of These</i>, which I confidently call a -great novel, I could hardly refrain from a -shout of applause.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>IX</h2></div> - - -<p>Mr. Marshall is a twentieth century -novelist, because he is happily yet alive, -and because he writes of twentieth century -scenes and characters; but he is apart -from the main currents of twentieth century -fiction, standing indeed in the midst of -the stream like a commemorative pillar to Victorian -art. He has never written historical romance, -which dominated the novel at the beginning -of our century; he has never written the -"life" novel—beginning with the hero's birth -and travelling with plotless chronology, the -type most in favour since the year 1906; he has -never written a treatise and called it a novel, -as so many of his contemporaries have done. -Every one of his novels, except the two unfortunate -burlesques, is a good story, with a good -plot and living characters; and he has chosen -to write about well-bred people, because those -are the people he knows best.</p> - -<p>It is also well to remember, that although -his best novels are parochial, he himself is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -citizen of the world. He has seen the North -Cape, he has lived in the Australian bush, in -various European cities, and has traveled extensively -in America. One reason why he can -describe English country life so clearly is because -he sees it in the proper perspective. He -is at home in any community on earth.</p> - -<p>I call him a realistic novelist, because his -realism is of the highest and most convincing -kind—it constantly reminds us of reality. I -cannot see why a well-constructed story, that -deals mainly with attractive men and women, -and ends on a note of robust cheerfulness, -should have any less right to the adjective -"realistic" than an ill-arranged transcript of -the existence of creatures living amongst poverty, -filth, and crime. And so far as Mr. Marshall's -Victorian reticence on questions of sex -is concerned, this strengthens his right to the -title Realist. As Henry James said, the moment -you insist that animalism must have its -place in works of art, there almost always -seems to be no place for anything else. If a -novelist is to represent real life, he must make -subordinate and incidental what in some -novels dominates every page. If a writer is -to describe events as they really happen, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -portray men and women as they really are, to -create living characters that can be recognized -in modern society, he ought to emphasize in -his art what life itself emphasizes—the difference -between man and the lower animals. The -curious thing is that in many so-called realistic -novels it is impossible to distinguish between -human beings and the beasts of the field; the -well-understood likeness is stressed so heavily -that not only the individual, but even the type -is lost. One can hardly call so total an absence -of discrimination true art. Even the most elementary -man or woman is less elementary than -a beast; and is it not true that the greater the -complexity, the greater the skill required to -report it truly?</p> - -<p>And here is a strange thing. It is only in -stories of human beings that our would-be -realists insist that animalism should be most -frankly and most minutely portrayed. When -we come to dog-stories—of which there are -many—the element of sex is as a rule wholly -omitted. Yet surely this is more salient in the -life of a dog than in the life of a man.</p> - -<p>Archibald Marshall is a realist. He represents -cultivated men and women as we saw -them yesterday, and as we shall see them to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>morrow. -He seldom disappoints us, for among -all living novelists, whilst he is not the greatest, -he is the most reliable. It is difficult to analyse -the extraordinary charm of his stories, for they -are simpler than simplicity. He takes us literally -into the bosom of a family, where each -member has a distinct individuality, and the -novel progresses like beautiful voices with -orchestral accompaniment—each individual in -turn singing an air, while the family fortunes -supply the harmony. To read his books is to -associate with people whom it is highly important -to know—not because of their social -standing, but because of their solid worth. His -good characters are fundamentally good. They -are seldom brilliant, and almost never reformers. -They are more altruistic than philanthropic. -They possess the fine old virtues -of purity, wholesomeness, generosity, loving-kindness, -honesty, loyalty, tact, consideration; -such persons are always lovable in life, which -is why they are lovable in these books. His -heroes are not saviours of society, they are -simply good companions, be the weather fair -or foul; and we are never sickened by the diaphanous -veneer of sentimentality. His villains -seldom break the law of the land, and do not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -reek of melodrama. They are inconsiderate, -garrulous, inopportune, stupid, meddling, officiously -helpful, which is sometimes worse than -deliberate hostility. Mrs. Prentice in <i>Exton -Manor</i> is his most offensive specimen, and according -to the wisdom of the Book of Proverbs, -she is one of the four things for which the earth -is disquieted—"an odious woman when she is -married." These respectable villains, who -often cause more suffering than professional -criminals, receive the punishment of unpopularity. -But in most of his characters the elements -are more kindly mixed. We have on -every page the delight of recognition—the figures -are so perfectly drawn that we are under -the illusion that they are alive.</p> - -<p>Although these stories are never explicitly -didactic, they are ethically as well as artistically -true. Beneath the surface of light conversation -and trivial incident we find an idea -that works for righteousness. This idea is so -variously and so frequently illustrated that I -think it must be the foundation of the author's -philosophy of life and conduct. He would have -us believe that different individuals, different -social classes, different communities dislike and -distrust each other mainly through ignorance.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -He would not say in the old phrase, to understand -is to forgive, he would say something -without any taint of condescension, something -finer and more fruitful—to understand is to -respect, to admire, to love. The inefficient aristocrat -and the pushing millionaire despise each -other, the haughty Churchman and the pious -Dissenter distrust each other's motives until -they are brought by the force of circumstances -into an unescapable daily intimacy; the result -of which to both is surprising and agreeable. -Apparently what we all need is more imagination, -more intelligence. These novels make -a combined attack on the last infirmity of both -noble and ignoble minds, that last citadel of -stupidity—Prejudice.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>BIBLIOGRAPHY</h2></div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="bibliography"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"> </td><td class="center">English<br />publication</td> -<td class="center">American</td></tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Peter Binney, Undergraduate</td><td class="center">1899</td><td class="center">. . . .</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The House of Merrilees</td><td class="center">1905</td><td class="center">1905</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Richard Baldock</td><td class="center">1906</td><td class="center">1918</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Exton Manor</td><td class="center">1907</td><td class="center">1908</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Many Junes</td><td class="center">1908</td><td class="center">1919</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Squire's Daughter</td><td class="center">1909</td><td class="center">1912</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Eldest Son</td><td class="center">1911</td><td class="center">1911</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Sunny Australia (<i>sketches of travel</i>)</td><td class="center">1911</td><td class="center">. . . .</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Mystery of Redmarsh Farm</td><td class="center">1912</td><td class="center">. . . .</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Honour of the Clintons</td><td class="center">1913</td><td class="center">1913</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Terrors (<i>short stories</i>)</td><td class="center">1913</td><td class="center">. . . .</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Greatest of These (Roding Rectory)</td><td class="center">1914</td><td class="center">1914</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Old Order Changeth (Rank and Riches)</td><td class="center">1915</td><td class="center">1915</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Upsidonia</td><td class="center">1915</td><td class="center">1917</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Watermeads</td><td class="center">1916</td><td class="center">1916</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">Abington Abbey</td><td class="center">1917</td><td class="center">1917</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">The Graftons</td><td class="center">1918</td><td class="center">1918</td></tr> -</table> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Archibald Marshall, a Realistic -Novelist, by William Lyon Phelps - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARCHIBALD MARSHALL *** - -***** This file should be named 60686-h.htm or 60686-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/6/8/60686/ - -Produced by Carlos Colon, the University of Toronto and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian -Libraries) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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